


Say it's here where our pieces fall in place

by ElknCatus



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Doubt, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied Sexual Content, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:26:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElknCatus/pseuds/ElknCatus
Summary: Aziraphale contemplates his relationships and his life with Crowley after all of the troubles of their 6,000 years together.





	Say it's here where our pieces fall in place

“Crowley?” Aziraphale turned to the demon realizing that he had fallen asleep (odd, for being in Aziraphale’s bed), with that scarlet hair falling in strands, unkempt from the night’s events in earlier hours. Their conversations usually lasted for hours, until they slept for a while before the sun rose. It was quite an efficient system. Aziraphale slipped under the covers and blinked at the ceiling. 

Aziraphale still wasn’t sure about how he had felt of the night, the relationship, the after of the apocalystopped. The change was surely for the better, but he wasn’t sure about it. Demons weren’t supposed to get this far with an angel, and Aziraphale still didn’t know if he should of let Crowley get to him like this. The underlying uneasiness morphed into doubt, and doubt, doubt was cruel. Doubt was certainly Crowley’s job. He had done well with it anyway if he meant to touture him, but Aziraphale doubted that. 

He had doubts of his life and what he’s done with it. Doubt of how far he was willing to go to protect what he loved. Doubt if he was ready to give anything and everything to what was supposed to be who he hated most. Doubt that if Heaven and Hell really did care and that they still wanted to erase them, and if one day they would drag them apart in a park or wherever they would be and kill them both. But, his real fear was that Hell or Heaven wanted only one of them, and the one that died would have the easier way out. He certainly doubted that if he lost Crowley, he wouldn’t be able to not smash his way through heaven and question God, Herself on why she did what she did. 

What he didn’t doubt was that Crowley loved him, loved him more than nearly anything. What he didn’t doubt was that he loved when Crowley pushed him against a wall and kissed him. When he made him sing, made sure he knew how loved he was, and how much he sent Crowley into a downward spiral of lust for him. He did adore that. What he didn’t doubt was that he adored every moment of when he ran his hands up and down Crowley’s body,lingering only when Crowley stopped breathing, and Crowley crooned his name or simply “Angel”. What he didn’t doubt was that when his demon put an arm around him and held him close, it was surely nothing short of the best moment of his life. 

When Aziraphale saw Crowley he still wanted pinched himself at how lucky he had gotten. His red hair that Aziraphale just loved to stoke and run his hands through it to get the various knots and tangles out that plagued it. Those marvelous yellow eyes that Crowley tried to hide, that frail frame that he loved to cover in bruises and marks and watch squirm. Crowley had always appreciated Aziraphale being adaptable to him, being able to hold him and ravage him in the same breath. Aziraphale didn’t care much, he had always saw Crowley in that light. Physical, Crowley was, that’s how Aziraphale would describe it. Physical.

Aziraphale didn’t necessarily like the physicality of relationships. Human’s touch tended to mediocre, Angel’s touch too soft, and the laying of the hand on another’s body was too troublesome for him. Well, until Crowley showed him differently. When Crowley played him like a violin, showed him how his rough kisses and gentle love could change an angel. Change him in so many ways, change him into something so much more sinful, delightfully sinful. Where the idea of what they had now didn’t send him to an alter praying that She would cause him to fall for imaging the demon on his knees.

Aziraphale was more thought driven than his demon, talking for hours about whatever struck his fancy. Sure, he loved Crowley’s impeccable, unwavering, even, effenable touch, but he wanted to speak, soliloquy, to talk. Wanted to talk with him, wanted to discuss any topic with him, and wanted a debate. He found the demon’s point of view thrilling, something different, not dictated by Her. For someone who regretted asking questions, he always put forth the most interesting ones. And Aziraphale was grateful for it, for indulging him in every sense of the word 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, and smiled with pride. He was such a joy, the light of his life. Doubt couldn’t ruin this. He was sure of it. The angel tucked his head under the demon’s arm, and curled up near him. Crowley loved him, that he was sure of. Crowley was perfect for Aziraphale, he was sure of it. And maybe, that troubled some purely holy part of him, but he sure did love his demon.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm new here, and I wrote this thing for my first post.


End file.
